Secret Brides [3] Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage (20 page)

Annie piped up. “We just know you, Medford. And we know how kind you are. Yes, you may have started all of this for a pamphlet, but Jordan says you’ve hired a runner.”

James sighed. “Remind me to thank Ashbourne next time I see him for telling you that.”

“We’re serious, James,” Lily continued.

They paused outside the salon door. Kate struggled to regulate her breathing, but popped her head around the corner to continue to listen. She might as well hear the rest now that she’d already turned into the type of dreadful person who listened to private conversations.

“You are in real trouble this time,” Lily added. “Your town house is a shambles and your reputation is in danger. You should hear what they’re saying about you on the streets. Have you seen the papers?”

James nodded slowly. “Believe me. I know what they’re saying about me.”

“You’ve always prided yourself on your reputation,” Annie said. “Are you sure this entire affair is still worth it to you?”

James straightened his cravat. “I’m having the house repaired as we speak.”

Lily tossed a hand in the air. “Fine. But what about your reputation?”

He grinned at them. “If I was that worried about my reputation, I wouldn’t own a printing press.”

“Be serious,” Lily insisted.

“But it’s not just the house and your reputation, Medford,” Annie added. “It’s more than that. You’re placing yourself in real danger. Someone may try to hurt you, try to kill you. Perhaps the same person who killed the duke.”

James opened the door to the salon then, and the three of them filed inside. He called to the butler for tea. Kate slipped back around the wall as the butler made his way to the kitchens so he wouldn’t see her.

When the salon door shut behind them, Kate expelled her breath and let her hand slide down to her belly. She felt ill. Physically ill. Lily and Annie had just perfectly expressed every single fear she’d had since she and James had come to the country together. She was ruining his life. And not only that, she was putting it in danger. Yes, he may have wanted the pamphlet, may have started all this to make a profit, but he hadn’t expected things to turn out the way they had. He hadn’t known how much danger he’d been placing himself and his property in.

Kate had been selfish too. Taking so much time to write the pamphlet when she could have finished by now. If she’d been gone before the trip to the farm, James’s house and reputation might not have been destroyed. No. She had no right to stay. No right to be here any longer. Money or no. Pamphlet or no. It was time to leave. For James’s sake.

Kate pressed her fingertips to her temples. She would never spend the night with James now. She knew it. That had been a foolish dream. One that she’d cherished, but foolish nonetheless. It was never meant to be. She must go upstairs, pack the few belongings she still possessed, and leave. She would always be grateful to James for giving her these past days of freedom but she could not, would not, endanger him any longer.

CHAPTER 26

James stood outside the towering heap of what had once been his town house. The freezing wind whipped along the street front. He pulled his cloak around him more tightly and pushed up his collar. The smell of burned wood and the lingering scent of smoke permeated the air. James expelled his breath. Yes. This mess had once been his home. Now it was half rubble. Lily had been right. The first floor was still relatively intact, but the top floors were burned out. All the windows were shattered and mud and debris had been tossed all over the structure. He stared at the building and shook his head.

His town house. His refuge. The place where every speck of dust mattered. He smiled wryly to himself. None of that mattered now, did it? There was far more than a speck of dirt involved here. He groaned. If someone had told him a fortnight ago that he’d be standing here now, staring at the burned-out remains of his house, why, he’d probably have had an attack of nerves. But now, a strange sense of calm came over him. It was just a house. Kate was facing down a death sentence. He couldn’t imagine that fear. In comparison, the idea of rebuilding his home was barely more than an inconvenience. What did a home matter, compared with one’s life?

Kate. She thought it was her fault that this had happened, but it was actually his. If he’d been more careful that afternoon when they’d returned from the farm, they wouldn’t have been seen. He’d let down his guard, and he had only himself to blame.

He kicked a piece of stone with his booted foot. It skipped off the mud in the roadway and settled with a decisive click on a pile of burned wood. He turned and hoisted himself into his waiting carriage. “Abernathy’s office,” he directed the coachman.

Twenty minutes later, James lowered himself into the seat in front of Mr. Abernathy’s desk.

“Give me some good news,” James said. “I’m exhausted. I traveled through the night to get back to town for this meeting today.”

“Have you seen it yet?” Abernathy asked with a strained look on his face.

“The town house? Yes.” James nodded. “But not to worry, my solicitor has already seen to it. The repairs will begin soon.”

“Glad to hear it.” Abernathy shuffled a mass of papers on his desk and pushed his spectacles up on his nose. “How is her grace?”

“As well as can be expected given the circumstances. What news from Mr. Horton?”

Abernathy frowned. “None, unfortunately. He canceled our meeting Friday, sending a note saying he had to return to Markingham Abbey for a bit more investigation. I hope he’ll have something solid by the time he returns.”

James sat back in his chair and crossed his heel over his knee. “And the court system?”

“The lord chancellor has scheduled the first hearing for just after Twelfth Night.”

James nodded. “What about the court of public opinion?”

“I assume you’ve read the papers. It’s not good, though there are some who’ve staunchly defended you.”

James shrugged. “I expected as much.”

Abernathy cleared his throat uncomfortably. “There’s something else.”

James leaned forward in his seat. “What?”

“I’ve been told a new story is about to run in this evening’s
Times
. The papers have been investigating you. They’ve discovered you own a printing press. Some are saying you’re a disgrace to the peerage.”

James hung his head. He let out his breath. His reputation, the one he’d spent his whole life building, gone in the blink of an eye. “I see,” he said calmly. “But you say I have some supporters? That’s encouraging.”

“Indeed you do. The lord chancellor is one of them.”

James arched a brow. “The lord chancellor? Really?”

“Yes, he’s firmly in your corner.”

“Glad to hear it. Anyone else of note?”

“If the rumors are to be believed, the Prince Regent himself has weighed in on your behalf. He says he’s anxious to hear the details straight from you and refuses to discuss the matter until he does so.”

This time James whistled. “Now that is high praise indeed. Normally, his royal highness doesn’t shy away from a good bit of gossip.”

Abernathy nodded. “Agreed. It’s a very good sign.”

“And what of Kate’s reputation? Everyone still believes she’s guilty, don’t they?”

“That’s something else I wanted to mention to you, my lord. Many of the details of the case have been leaked to the papers. One wonders who knew so much. Personally, I have my suspicions that it was Lady Bettina, but the fact remains that the evidence, when presented as it has been in the papers, appears extremely damaging.”

James clenched his jaw. “Are you saying there is no hope, Abernathy?”

“I’m saying I believe it’s time that we explored the possibility of alternate defenses.”

James narrowed his eyes on the barrister. “Alternate defenses?”

“Yes. I mentioned them to her grace when we first met. Self-preservation. Provocation.”

James scrubbed his hands across his face. “Kate said no to both of those.”

“Yes, but she does not know the law as I do. The way things stand, I firmly believe those are her best chances for acquittal. They might just save her life.”

James nodded once. “I understand.”

Abernathy’s face wore a decided frown. He pulled on the lapels of his coat. “My lord, I think it’s time you spoke to her grace. Explained to her that it is in her best interest to explore both options as possible defenses. You must ensure she understands.”

“I believe she already knows how dire it is, Abernathy.”

“But I don’t think she understands how very little there is to go on without preparing a vigorous defense.”

James pushed out of the chair and stood to leave. He pressed his lips together. “I’ll speak with her.”

“Good.”

James made his way to the door and pulled on his coat. “Thank you for all of your help, Abernathy. Much obliged.”

Abernathy gave him a stern stare. “Tell me, my lord. Is it worth it?”

James wrinkled his brow. “Worth what?”

“Is the pamphlet worth the loss of your town house?”

James placed his hat atop his head and tipped it forward. “I believe she’s innocent, Abernathy. Now just get your runner to prove it.”

CHAPTER 27

James returned to Hamphill Park the next day feeling vaguely restless. The work of repairing his town house was already under way, he’d seen to that. He’d even taken the opportunity to make some improvements to the property and was having water closets installed in all of the upstairs bedchambers. He’d also seen to it that all of the servants were installed at his other properties around town, and he had a guard standing watch over the progress at the ruined town house day and night. For the most part, everything in the house could be replaced, but Kate, if she’d been hurt …

Damn that mob, their small-mindedness and their assumptions. How dare they judge the woman before the court system even had a chance? He smiled wryly at his own thought. That’s how everything went in London. You were guilty until proven innocent. And the court of public opinion often was more unforgiving than the most disapproving judge could be. With the way she’d already been convicted in people’s minds, even if by some miracle Kate was acquitted by the House of Lords, there would still be a huge struggle to regain any semblance of innocence in the hearts and minds of the people of London. Her pamphlet might serve to alleviate a bit of that, but he made no pretensions to the fact that the pamphlet would serve more to satisfy the public’s curiosity than to convince them to believe anything other than what they had already settled upon. But at least it would give Kate a chance. An attempt to sway public opinion.

Kate.

James shook his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Specifically, he couldn’t stop thinking about their interlude in the library the other night. He’d called himself a dozen kinds of fool, cursed himself repeatedly, and vowed he would never repeat the act, but in the end, all he could do was replay it over and over in his mind. He could think of little else. Kate’s velvety soft skin, her maddening sweet scent, her luscious breasts filling his hands, her red-gold hair spilling over her shoulders, her perfect full lips. He pictured her that way, over and over again. Only when he pictured it, he pictured her in his bed.

Damn it. He was getting hard again just thinking about it. And he was doing nothing more than torturing himself. No doubt if she were to clear her name—and that was a huge if—she would want nothing more to do with aristocrats and marriage and the
ton
and Society. And he bloody well couldn’t blame her. But that’s all James was, those things. He had nothing more to offer her. Aside from a position as the authoress of a scandalous pamphlet, of course. Better to be known as an authoress than a murderess, he supposed. But how could they ever progress into anything more when they’d met under such dire circumstances? He’d hired her essentially, and she’d used him to get out of prison. Not quite the auspicious type of courtship one dreamed of.

And what was he even thinking, calling it a “courtship”? He wasn’t courting Kate. No, he was taking ungodly liberties with her whenever he had a chance because he couldn’t seem to keep his hands from her. He’d suffered his own mental recriminations for it time and time again, and he’d continue to do so, but now, right now, all he wanted to do was be in her company again.

He would talk to her about her defense, just as Abernathy had requested. Perhaps claiming provocation was the best course of action. Perhaps the House of Lords would look more kindly upon her if she told them the hideous way her husband had treated her when he’d been alive. Yes, he’d speak to her about it. Later. Right now, all he could think about was seeing her face.

He quickened his step. His boots crunched over the frozen pebbled drive as he strode to the front door. Oh God, he was anxious to see her. He was nearly running. He tugged at the front door’s brass handle and doffed his hat and coat. He shoved them toward the butler who looked a bit chagrined to have been thwarted in his job of opening the portal. Barely breaking his stride, James made his way to the library where Kate usually sat, writing.

He pushed open the door, a smile on his face.

His gaze darted across the room. Empty.

His smile faded. Leaving the door open, he turned on his heel and made his way back toward the front of the house to the gold salon. Was she taking tea?

He pushed open the door to the salon and strode inside. Also empty.

He frowned now. Perhaps she was napping.

He stepped back into the hall. A housemaid scurried past.

“Have you seen her grace?” James asked.

The maid cleared her throat. “No, my lord. Not today.”

James frowned again. She hadn’t come downstairs all day? That was unlike her. Perhaps she was feeling ill. Wanting to go up straightaway and see her, he stopped himself. It wouldn’t do to indulge himself like that. No. He shook his head. He’d send up a note later and check on her. He’d ask for a meeting with her, to discuss her defense. And he would sit safely on the opposite side of the desk from her when he did so.